


Not Like This

by shadow_lover



Category: The Goblin Emperor - Katherine Addison
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Cousin Incest, Dry Humping, Hand Jobs, M/M, Pre-Canon, Sexual Assault
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-14
Updated: 2016-09-14
Packaged: 2018-08-15 00:10:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,629
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8034412
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shadow_lover/pseuds/shadow_lover
Summary: He had not quite crossed the room when Setheris burst in, and it was too late to flee.





	Not Like This

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Path](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Path/gifts).



> Path - wow, I fell in love with your prompts in the ~~most fucked-up~~ best way possible. I hope you enjoy the fic, and happy Coronation Ceremony!  <3
> 
> And thank you to Morbane for beta'ing!

The front door slammed, and all of Edonomee rattled. Maia rattled with it. From his seat in the parlor, his eyes darted to the half-dead lamp. He had lost track of time reading and would now have to hurry to reach his room before his cousin reached him. Setheris had gone to town that night, which meant he’d gone to drink, which meant—what it usually meant.

Maia shut his novel and pushed to his feet. In his haste, he forgot not to use his injured left arm. Pain flared up his nerves from the half-healed wounds. Blinking back tears, he held his arm close to his body. He had not quite crossed the room when Setheris burst in, and it was too late to flee.

Setheris was red-faced and gleaming with sweat. His pale gaze ghosted over Maia. He was drunker than Maia had ever seen him.

“Cousin,” Maia said.

Setheris laughed, so dry and hacking it was like a cough. “Yes,” he slurred. “I am thy cousin.” He staggered closer.

Maia flinched and backed away, ears pinned. He was still too far from the door.

Setheris stopped, as if pulled by a string, and stared at him. “Thou fearest us.” He wavered where he stood.

Dry-mouthed, Maia could say nothing. His every instinct screamed to flee. He was accustomed to reading Setheris’s moods, but he could not tell what was now going through his cousin’s metheglin-drenched mind.

Setheris stumbled closer; Maia backed up again and found himself against the wall. He jumped, heart-pounding. The novel fell from his hand. He closed his eyes when Setheris raised his hand, long fingers gilded in the lamplight.

But the touch that lighted on his cheek was gentle. Maia froze, sick and breathless, as hot, damp fingers traced his jaw.

Stinking breath hit his face, carrying soft words with it: “Knowest thou, I do not hate thee.”

Maia’s eyes snapped open. He didn’t understand. He stared into his cousin’s blotchy face—were his cheeks wet with sweat or tears? “I don’t,” he started, and then fell silent. He couldn’t recall the last time Setheris had touched him without hurting him. Though he knew too well the reek of metheglin, he did not know the confusion in his cousin’s watering eyes.

 _Better this,_ he thought, as Setheris’s hand dropped from his cheek to his shoulder. As Setheris slurred, “We hate thy _father_.” His grip tightened painfully, sharp nails driving into skin and muscle. “His _fucking_ Serenity.”

Maia whimpered.

Setheris wheezed and fell forward. He caught himself with one arm on the wall beside Maia’s head. His body pressed heavily against Maia, who couldn’t breathe. He tried in vain to push his cousin off, his injured arm spasming in pain—but then there was a hot wetness against his neck, nuzzling just below his jaw.

Maia froze, robbed of all coherent thought, as Setheris kissed his neck. This was bad—he knew this was bad—he pushed again, but his arms were too weak. “Cousin,” he choked out.

Setheris only fell more heavily against him, and murmured: “I’m sorry.”

Maia’s ears flicked back and his stomach twisted as his cousin continued pawing at his shoulder, at his neck—no touch worse than the words echoing through him. Repeated again, with teeth, against his collarbone: “I’m sorry.”

How many times had he dreamed of those words? An admission of guilt? An apology for the violence, for the neglect, for coldness?

 _Not this,_ he thought. He prayed Pelchara or Haru might rouse from sleep to rescue him. Or Setheris might succumb at last to the metheglin and collapse. _Not like this._

But a sicker, weaker part of him was desperately grateful for the barely intelligible words. Setheris moved back up his neck, and in between kisses he apologized again and again. He rasped into Maia’s ear. “I’m sorry.” He bit at his pulse. “I’m sorry.” And then he rested, lips parted in the crook of Maia’s neck, shoulders hunched, his ragged breath hot and cold against his spit-slick skin.

Maia’s heartbeat was a hammer against his ribs. He felt rough hands at his waist, dropping down, and thumbs digging into the tender flesh inside his hipbones. He trembled with the pressure and the heat all down the front of him.

Setheris lifted his head then. His eyes were unfocused, his jaw slack. He did not seem to see Maia. The air between them hummed with alcoholic heat, and Setheris leaned forward. _He is going to kiss me,_ Maia thought, and he was too numb with horror to turn away.

But Setheris did not kiss him. He pressed a palm against Maia’s jaw and lifted his head up. His thumb brushed, soft and tickling, along Maia’s lower lip. He said, “There’s a whore in the village who looks like thee.”

His erection was a hard stripe against Maia’s belly. Maia could feel little else, like the edges of his mind were blurring away. He slumped uselessly against the wall. His fists curled in the fabric of Setheris’s jacket only because he lacked the strength to let go.

Setheris shifted against him, at first as if by accident. Then he rocked again, and again, rough and deliberate. His harsh breath had almost a whine to it.

_Shouldst scream, halfwit._

But no one would care. Or they would think him just as culpable. Setheris was so far gone, if Maia only pushed him hard enough he would topple to the floor. _Why hast thou not?_ Maia could not bring himself to shove away from the gentle fingers against his cheek. From the wet lips moving against his sensitive ear in one last, “I’m sorry.”

Maia had never been touched like this outside his fantasies. _Nor in them—this is nothing like—_ heat, helplessness, fumbling at his trousers. Maia jerked as careless knuckles brushed his cock through the coarse fabric. He wasn’t hard.

Not completely.

Setheris mumbled something unintelligible into Maia’s hair, then shoved a rough hand down his trousers.

Maia choked on a protest, eyes wide in shock. Setheris’s hand was hot and damp on his cock—not gripping, just palming him, feeling him. Maia’s tender skin heated up with the ruthless, possessive touch. Fingertips pressed slowly down his shaft until ragged fingernails dug into the base of his cock, scratching through his hair--Maia flinched yet again, teeth in his lower lip to stifle his groan.

Setheris’s voice still washed over him, but Maia understood none of it. Whether it was Setheris’s incoherence or simply the blood rushing too loudly through his ears, everything was so cold and far away. All he heard was a thin, hurt sound that was utterly foreign, yet he knew it broke from his own throat.

He was hard now, his body responding even as his mind reeled.

Setheris rutted against his hipbone, panting against his face. He kissed Maia’s cheek clumsily, and almost caught his lips. Maia jerked his head to the side. _At last,_ he thought bitterly. _Hast found a line thou’lt not cross._

Undeterred, Setheris turned his attentions to the delicate shell of Maia’s ear. Nosing and licking and the prick of teeth—words, suddenly clear again, snarled right through the core of him: “Idiot boy.”

The hand tightened on his cock, yanking up, and Maia jerked into the slick grasp. His release was a storm crashing through him. He nearly blacked out with the force, so overwhelmed with heat and pleasure and fear and it _hurt_. He was coiled up in a tight nexus of ecstasy and pain, and as he came down, he knew he had lost something irretrievable.

Fallen forward, with his face pressed against Setheris’s shoulder, he gasped for breath. Setheris still held him, and the grip was too tight now that he had released. It hurt, but he knew Setheris didn’t care. Setheris hadn’t finished yet; he grunted, humping hard against Maia’s hip.

Maia didn’t know how long it continued. It felt like hours, dark and dizzying. But at last Setheris rocked once more forward, slamming Maia into the wall with bruising force as he groaned. Maia felt nothing through their clothing, but he knew Setheris had finished. The knowledge was nearly as heavy as Setheris’s body on his.

Setheris eased his hand from Maia’s trousers. When he pulled away, Maia nearly collapsed. He managed to fall back against the wall, weak-kneed and light-headed. He looked up at his cousin.

Swaying and red-eyed, Setheris looked no better than Maia felt. His skin was mottled red all the way past his collar, and his lips were wet and puffy from working over Maia’s neck. He blinked at Maia as if unsure what he saw. Then his slack-jawed, blank expression twisted into a more familiar rage. “Filth,” he snapped, stumbling backwards. “What dost thou here?”

 _He has forgotten_ , Maia realized. His cousin was so soaked in drink, he did not even remember what he had just done to him. _He will not remember tomorrow either—but thou wilt._

The absurdity of it sliced through the last of his numbness. Maia laughed in a thin wheeze of hysteria.

Setheris blinked blearily at him, then brought up his hand. His fingers were coated with Maia’s seed.

 _Filth._ Maia wondered distantly whether the whore in the village truly looked like him. He wondered whether Setheris had spent coin for that. _Hast allowed him to touch thee for no coin at all._

He doubled over with nausea, then forced himself to straighten. He gathered the strength to shove himself away from the wall. Setheris was too drunk to follow; a moment later, Maia was out of the parlor and running down the hall. He couldn’t see through the darkness, and when he rubbed his eyes, his hands came away wet.


End file.
